roove but just
the same they say this Kearns is a real he-man an' can put up a warm
scrap when necessary--the dude racket is only a thin veneer hiding the
genuine article. I was warned never to let him get a chance to beat me
to the draw--some call him a rattlesnake, only he lacks that reptile's
honesty in always giving warning when about to strike. Don't forget,
Perk, in dealing with this slick article you've got to be on your guard
every minute of the time."

"Glad you told me that, Jack, I might a'been fooled, an' treated him as
a soft guy. Looky thar, will you, boy--two--three fellers jest swarmed
out o' the shack an' gone into a huddle like they had some sorter game
to set up. Wonder now if one o' the bunch could be _him_!"

"I reckon not, Perk," came in a low tone from Jack, whose head was only
a few inches away from the other's, "none of them answer the description
that was given to me. I even saw a snapshot taken of several society
folks in front o' his Miami castle, with him standing in the center. One
of this lot's the flying man connected with that crate--you can see he's
still wearing his greasy dungarees and has his helmet on his head, like
he expected to be hopping-off any minute now; a second chap is short and
thick, not at all like the one we've come so far to buck up against,
while the third, while tall, looks like a roughneck skipper of a
speedboat."

"Guess you hit the nail on the head, Jack," muttered the convinced Perk,
for they were at some little distance away from the consulting trio, and
their whispers could never have been heard with the dead leaves on
nearby palmetto trees keeping up their harsh clashing when whipped by
the gusts of wind.

Both of the spies must have had a host of speculations passing in review
through their active minds as they lay there watching the conspirators
so earnestly talking and gesticulating. From time to time Jack and his
chum would cast further glances in the quarter where the trim aircraft
lay anchored, bobbing up and down like a restive horse eager to be off.

What did they fetch on their voyage through the upper air lanes, coming
from some unknown port--hardly "case stuff," Jack told himself, since
space aboard the Lockheed-Vega crate would be limited--then it must be
either yellow Chinks trying to crash the gates of the country that
banned some of their race as undesirable aliens, or possibly the winged
courier carried a batch of precious stones from far-